Fixing the Broken
by KCUrquhart
Summary: Sarah Jones is assigned as the psychologist to meet with the Avengers to clear them for duty after the Battle of New York.


Sarah Jones was an ordinary enough person. She's a 39 year old woman, dreading her 40th birthday next month. She wonders how she manages to kill houseplants in record time. She had spent way too much on her one-bedroom apartment in a nicer area of New York and is stuck driving her old Jeep Grand Cherokee with the fabric on the seats almost worn through. She loved everything about her job. She got to help people. To make them see themselves in a new way. Though, to be honest, twenty years ago, stuck in a university classroom learning about trauma, she hadn't expected to have to adapt that to deal with alien invasions and mad scientists.

But that was life as a SHIELD psychologist.

Sarah had first met Fury the day she graduated from Stanford. She'd always remember being utterly overwhelmed by him. The way he could wear a trench coat and an eye patch and not look like a space pirate. The way he could silence a room simply with his presence. The way he glared at her and it felt like he was reading her thoughts. Like he was the mutant, not her.

Because as ordinary as Sarah was, she really wasn't. She had a gift. She refused to ever call it anything different. Mutation sounded so clinical, so bland and heartless. No, this was a gift because she chose to use it as such. As long as she could remember, Sarah had been able to just 'know' what people were trying to say. She heard their words, but there was more, this deeper underlying voice that threaded into her head and told her everything that the person had wanted to say instead. Everything that their words had meant to convey. Everything they were too scared to actually admit out loud, or even to themselves.

It had taken the better part of her childhood to understand that not everyone heard things the way she did. Once she realized, she'd tried to hide it. But how do you stop yourself from hearing something without becoming a hermit living in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Which wasn't an option for a ten year old in Southern California. So she'd adapted. If she had to hear the meaning behind words, then the least she could do is use her gift to help others. To help the people who couldn't see the things they were hiding from themselves. Not until years later did it ever occur to her to use her gift to her own advantage. She'd only done it once, when her boyfriend of two years had cheated on her. She'd dug out everything she'd learned about him over the years and had thrown it in his face. The memory of the hollowed out and haunted shell she'd left him as was the thing that kept her calm whenever she thought of using her gift that way again. She had destroyed one life. She would never do that again.

Sarah had earned a reputation at SHIELD fairly quickly. She was the only one who managed to keep the agents assigned to her not only mentally stable, but they all willingly came back for future appointments. Which was unheard of. Agents didn't whine about their problems. They bottled them up, or gossiped about other people to make themselves feel better. But they never actually examined and dealt with them in a healthy way. At least, not until Sarah Jones joined the team.

Which was how Sarah found herself suddenly reassigned to be the psychologist to the Avengers. Honestly, she was not looking forward to it. The SHIELD psychology department had a list of the worst agents and Clint Barton was at the very top of that list. Followed very closely by Natasha Romanov, though for a very different reason. Barton never shut up, rambling about the most random and useless things, while Romanov simply never spoke. At all. Not a word. Ever.

Not to mention the fact that Sarah was expected to meet with Tony Stark as well. Which was not going to be fun. But Sarah would do her job. And she'd do it perfectly. Cause she refused to give the ass-hole junior agents a win in the betting pool. Most predicted her to run out screaming twelve seconds into her first meeting. Not a single person had betted on her lasting longer than a week.

Her first meeting was Wednesday morning with Steve Rogers; Captain America. He showed up on time, knocking on her door as the clock ticked over to 10am.

"Come in."

Steve seemed nervous as he came in, glancing around the various furniture in the room. The office was Sarah's own design (one of the perks of being the best was that she usually got whatever she asked for, and that included a large office). It was separated into two areas, one with her desk and another with a cluster of fluffy couches and oversized chairs. Hers was also one of the few offices that Fury had allowed to be painted. Three of the walls were a neutral tan but the fourth was a deep purple. The whole space was comforting and it felt like home. Which it sort of was since she spent more time here than her apartment.

"Have a seat." She gestured towards the cluster of furniture and Steve finally sank into one of the chairs. She took a spot across from him, noting how he held himself rigid. "I won't bite. Promise." She smiled and he gave a weak grin back but relaxed somewhat. Still holding his back straight, up off the back of the chair. Sarah sighed internally. Getting Steve Rogers to crack wasn't going to be fun, or easy. "So, Steve, is it all right if I call you Steve? I just think Captain is too formal."

"Whatever you think is best, Doctor."

"Please, call me Sarah."

"Sarah. Nice to meet you." Steve leaned across and held out his hand. Sarah shook it, trying to close down the mental barriers she kept in place during her normal life. She allowed the quiet undercurrent of sound to flow into her mind as Steve spoke. He was nervous about being here, because he was worried that she'd only want to talk about Peggy or Bucky. But there was also a genuine pleasure at meeting her. That was unexpected.

"Four months since New York, what have you been up to?" Sarah asked. Steve stiffened slightly and she rushed on. "I know what I'd do with a four month vacation. I've always wanted to drive Route 66 and eat at all the diners and see the weird little tourist stops."

Steve beamed. "That sounds nice. I may have to try that if I ever get another vacation." There it was. The underlying fear that SHIELD was a life-long commitment. That it was just like the army all over again. He'd be their dancing monkey, doing whatever he was told, and his life would never be his own again. The power of the undercurrent would have knocked Sarah on her ass if she wasn't already sitting. The strength of the emotion was almost stronger than anything she'd ever felt. It nearly covered up the resignation underneath it. He didn't like it, but he would do whatever he had to.

"SHIELD has mandatory rest periods for all active agents. So I'm sure you'll have an opportunity."

"I thought the Avengers weren't technically classified as agents." Sarah heard the doubt and fear. The inability to let himself hope and the underlying hatred of SHIELD. For their lies and manipulations. "And I'm pretty sure that even when we're off-duty we are still on-call. It's not like alien invasions will stop because I wanted to go to see some tourist traps."

"The Avengers as still part of SHIELD and are still privy to the same vacation time. Plus, you're only going to be called as-needed. So, the majority of time will be your own. You'll be free to do whatever you want." Sarah didn't need her gift to read the skeptical look Steve gave her. "Within reason, of course. Can't just hop a jet to Russia or anything."

"I've had enough of Europe for a lifetime." Steve's jaw clenched a second later as he realized what he'd just said. And who he'd said it to.

Sarah knew what he expected to come next. And Sarah hated doing what people expected. "You really should give it another chance. You probably didn't get time to see the better parts. Like the Louvre, or Venice. Some of the best art museums are in Europe."

Steve's face softened with a real smile. "It would be nice to see the cities without worrying about bombs. And I'd love a chance to see all the masterpieces." Wow! The passion behind Steve's whispered words hit her like a tidal wave. She knew the man loved art, but shit!

"What would you have done, if the war had never happened?"

"Hm?" Steve twitched, snapping out of his thoughts. "Sorry?"

"If you'd never been recruited, and you never became Captain America, what would you have done?" Sarah leaned back in her seat. She was genuinely curious, even though she was fairly certain of the answer. She wanted to know whether or not Steve knew it as well.

Steve looked thrown by the question. "What does it matter? It all happened."

"Humor me." Sarah didn't move, waiting for Steve to speak. He closed his eyes, taking slow steady breaths. She hoped he'd open his eyes again before speaking. Eye contact wasn't necessary for her gift, but it made it easier.

"I was never that athletic, as a kid. Too sickly." Steve blinked his eyes open, catching Sarah's eye before ducking his head, like he was confessing some horrible crime. "While the other boys were out playing baseball, I'd stay inside. I started drawing as a way to pass the time. Bucky and my teachers said I was good, and I guess I always dreamt of doing that someday. Then the war…"

"Who's your favorite artist?"

"I don't have one in particular." Steve's smile came easily and he finally sank back into the chair; all tension draining from his body as his eyes settled on some unfocused spot on the far wall. "But my favorite exhibit at the Met was always Degas' sketches. I always admired how he could capture movement so easily. People were never my strong suit. I can draw places and things, easy, but people. I could never find a way to make their personalities shine through like I wanted. They always seemed so stiff and dead. I couldn't get the light to come into their eyes, no matter how hard I tried."

"That's right, you do pencil sketches. I've seen some of your work. It's quite impressive."

Steve blushed. "How did you - ?"

"Once SHIELD was formed your things were moved here. Ms. Carter was particularly fond of one of your drawings. A dancing monkey. She kept it in a frame on her desk."

"You knew Peggy?" Steve's surprise shown out from his face, his interest overwhelming him. Sarah heard the hesitancy behind it. And just a hint of the embarrassment still seeping through from her earlier compliment. He wanted to know about Peggy. To know if she had been happy. If she had loved her life after Steve had disappeared into the ice.

"She was technically retired when I started, but she still liked to come through every other month or so and inspect the troops. Personally, I think she just enjoyed how nervous it made Fury."

Steve chuckled. "If anyone could frighten Fury, it's her." So much love threaded his words. Sarah felt herself wrapped into the emotion. She loved hearing genuine love. Anger, resentment, trust issues, everything else was simple and straightforward. But not love. Love was deep and complex and a twisted maze that most people spent their whole lives trying to navigate. Steve's was one of the most complex cases she'd ever heard, but that wasn't surprising, given his circumstances.

"Have you been to see her?"

Steve shook his head but didn't stiffen. Which meant Sarah was slipping past his barriers. "No. I couldn't bring myself to. They say she doesn't remember – some disease."

"Alzheimer's." It wasn't common knowledge. Fury had classified it, but Sarah knew. She had been the one to first notice when Peggy was acting strangely during one of her visits. Sarah had heard the confusion and fear behind her voice every time she accidentally repeated a question or comment or forgot her way around the base.

"Yeah." And there it was, the thing Sarah had been waiting for. Steve's grief. Because he felt like he had lost her twice. Waking up so far in the future, with everyone he knew dead. Except for one. But she didn't remember Steve; didn't even remember herself most days. Steve felt like he was drowning in a sea of this new time, and the world had tried to throw him a lifeline, but it was too far away to ever reach.

Sarah let Steve simmer inside his own thoughts as she slowly sifted through everything she had heard. There was grief still, and sadness. But in Steve's personal timeline it'd only been about a year since he'd lost everyone he loved. She found anger and bitterness, at himself and at SHIELD. But for everything he'd been through, he was handling it all fairly well.

"Okay, well." Sarah spoke up finally, watching Steve snap from his thoughts. "I think that's all."

Steve furrowed his brows. "That's it? Do I need to come back?"

"Not unless you want to." Sarah smiled and stood up as Steve stood up as well. She led him to the door and he lingered a moment, shaking her hand. "Did you want something else?" Sarah knew that he did and that she needed one more bit of information before she could sign off on him. She knew what she was doing though. She'd played this game before.

"It's just, don't take this the wrong way, but –" Steve stammered.

"Less painful than you expected?" She chuckled and Steve beamed and nodded. "I wasn't lying when I said I don't bite."

"Glad to see that some people around here still keep their word." Sarah ignored the anger and bitterness. She already knew everything she needed to on Steve's feelings about SHIELD.

"Just one last thing, don't panic." She laughed as Steve stiffened. "But I know there are a few more of your sketches floating around and I could gather them up and send them over to you. If you want?"

Steve relaxed and smiled sweetly down at her. "That'd be wonderful, thanks."

"You're staying over at Stark Tower, right?"

"Yeah." There it was; the last piece of the puzzle.

"I'll send them over sometime this week."

Once Steve was gone, Sarah sat back at her desk and flipped open his file. She quickly scrawled out her signature, clearing Captain Rogers for return to duty. That last word had told her Steve's feelings about his new team. He didn't trust them or like them the way he had his Howling Commandos, but he trusted them more than anyone else. He trusted them to have his back in the field, and he liked them enough to willingly agree to live with them.

Sarah reached into her desk drawer, pulling out the photo she'd stashed there. It was of her and Peggy. It'd been taken a few months ago, right after the Battle of New York. Sarah was a lot closer to Peggy than she let on. They'd hit it off instantly the first time they'd met, despite the huge age difference. They had stayed in constant contact since. Sarah still went to visit her every chance she got, even if Peggy no longer recognized her. Mostly, she went because what little Peggy did remember were things SHIELD still considered classified, which greatly limited her list of acceptable visitors.

She set the photo back in its normal place on the corner of her desk, next to the family photo from last Christmas. Steve would be alright, it would just take time. Something he'd lost far too much of recently. If Steve had recovered enough to regroup and fight with the Avengers, then Sarah doubted anything would be able to break him. Though as Sarah closed Steve's file and opened the next one in the pile, Tony Stark's, she thought that if anything could ruin him, it'd be Stark.


End file.
